I can no longer be contained.
I’m busting out like a storm.
I’m the weather, baby and
it’s okay
to rearrange
shake it up
rain it down
like a torrent,
a lightning strike,
sweet spring rain.

I can no longer be contained.
Because I’m breathing now.
All the way down to the belly
of who I am
and I am tired of constraint,
of holding myself back,
tied up, tied down.
wrapped in doubt,
retraction,
contraction,
subtraction.

I am pacing like a pregnant rhino.
And I’ve been pregnant for a long time.
It’s birth time baby,
the season of birth.

I am a woman in my prime
like a number that cannot be divided.
It’s time to own it,
full out time to unfurl, uncurl,
dance it out, dance it in, love.

I can’t stand still.
Don’t want to.
It’s not about composure
It’s about composing.

I am moving now,
speaking now
and my throat has become
a tunnel of love.
Can’t stop the truth,
it’s pouring out,
and the truth is beauty
but sometimes hard to hear.

Because we are used to our complaint.
We are married to our fear.
We are enmeshed in our anger.

And that’s life, right?
It’s all good.

It’s all good
Until we are tired of what contains us,
what constrains us.
It’s all good until we want something more,
That doesn’t define us,
that doesn’t confine us.

I am pacing like a wild thing
who is tasting her natural habitat.
It’s where it’s at.
It’s calling me now.
Lush and green and howling.
And Free.
Free to be
you go it
free to be

Me.